


And in Between I Drink Black Coffee

by SophisticatedCat



Series: Some Sort of SteveBucky Au Series [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Brooklyn, Chance Meetings, Cute, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, Weddings, briefly at least there's a wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophisticatedCat/pseuds/SophisticatedCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky moves back to Brooklyn and just happens to bump into an old friend. </p>
<p>Bucky starts working for the coffeeshop where Steve works. </p>
<p>A simple journey through their relationship, from (second) first meeting, to first kiss, to a wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And in Between I Drink Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [黑咖啡練習曲](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714927) by [abbabccd05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbabccd05/pseuds/abbabccd05)



> When writing this, I imagined that Steve is trans.
> 
>  

 

The army brat life had never been great to Bucky. His charming personality made it easy for him to make friends. His dad’s job, however, made it even easier to lose friends. 

After years of traveling as his father’s job moved, he graduated college and took a year to work a couple odd jobs and save money. Finally, he worked up the funds and the guts to move back.

Bucky had moved in in early morning. The train had arrived before the sunrise, and Bucky was fortunate to have an apartment manager who’d let him move in early. The rising sun illuminates the small studio apartment in a yellow glow.

As Bucky unpacks his couple of bags into his new apartment, he can’t help but think that something in Brooklyn called him back. 

He’d only lived here for a couple of years in junior high. He’d had his first kiss in Brooklyn. He slow-danced for the first time in Brooklyn. He’d snuck out, smoked his first cigarette (and tried to act cool as his chest constricted and his eyes watered) here. He’d gotten in fights, gone on ‘dates’ and learned how to dance and kiss. 

Bucky had come out in Brooklyn.

Brooklyn had been good to Bucky, and he had come home. 

Unpacking had turned into calling his mom to reassure her that he was fine. This had turned into laying on the floor and surfing the web until he decided to go out. 

Bucky was perfectly fine on his own, but he kind of wanted to meet some people, make friends in his new home. Maybe exchange casual blowjobs somewhere. Perhaps he should just stick to re-framiliarizing himself with the neighborhood for now. Moving in now, blowjobs later. 

Bucky changes into clean canvas joggers, a plain shirt and denim jacket. He slips on his worn-out adidas, runs his fingers through his short hair to shape it, and begins his walk through the neighborhood. 

Bucky’s ‘trying desperately to save money’ diet these past months had thinned him out a bit, and his joggers slid down his hips as he walked down the street. Small businesses line the street, and small groups of people walk by. Some are obviously tourists, looking down at maps on their phones or taking too many photos of random buildings. Most seem to be local people going about their daily business. The entire street thrums with life in the early autumn sun. 

Bucky’s stomach growls. He tries to remember how much money is in his checking account before stepping into a small cafe. 

The cafe is cute and people chatter quietly at tables and in line at the counter. The occasional grind of an espresso machine mixes with the old blues tunes playing over the stereo. 

Small potted plants are on each wooden table. 

Bucky stands in line, spacing out in daydreams. He imagines this is the perfect place to sip coffee and hold hands with a spectacularly charming man over the table. They'd kiss gently and take in the calming aura of the place. To Bucky, this seems like the perfect place for an old fashioned romance to unfold.

“Bucky?” a deep voice saying his name jolts Bucky out of his fantasy. 

Bucky has worked his way to the counter. The source of the name seems to be the huge, blond barista standing at the register. Bucky stares dumbly at the guy for a few moments before those familiar blue eyes trigger a flood of junior-high memories. 

“Steve?” Bucky asks the guy. 

“Holy shit!” Steve is smiling hugely, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners. Bucky knows that smile. Bucky recognizes the way his lips formed around the profanity. Steve’s light brown stubble is beginning to form a short beard. The face, body, and voice are different, but Steve is still Steve. 

“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, I walk into yours!” Bucky replies. 

“Jerk.” Steve holds out a hand and Bucky grabs it.

“Punk.” Bucky shakes Steve’s hands and the separate, still smiling at each other. 

Bucky orders his caramel mocha and slice of pumpkin bread, then sits at a table by the window. A different barista places Bucky’s drink and snack at the table. 

Bucky alternates between watching the customers at the shop and watching Steve. Steve seems to have a way with people. When Bucky knew him, he was younger, scrappier, and less socially experienced. Now he charms customers, but also legitimately seems to care about the people he interacts with. Bucky can’t help but be relieved that Steve seems to be as kind as ever. 

Bucky is on his second refill of black coffee and reading a poster for a local theatre when Steve sits opposite him at the small table. He’s taken off the black apron and is wearing jeans, boots, and a grey t-shirt. Bucky can't help but notice that he smells like woodsy cologne and coffee. There's a warm, bitter musky smell to Steve too. Bucky has to fight from noticeably inhaling.

“What brings you back to Brooklyn?” Steve is smiling that warm genuine smile again.

“I honestly don’t know.” Bucky sips his coffee after he answers. “You stayed here all these years?” Bucky tries to reciprocate. 

“Yeah, well, home is home y’know.” Steve smiles now, but sadder this time. Bucky immediately regrets bringing it up.

Steve looks up before speaking to Bucky again, “You got a job here?” Steve continues, talking faster, more nervous, “’Cause we’re hiring. If you're interested.” Bucky notices the slight blush that warms Steve’s cheeks and neck. It’s cute. 

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll need at least three jobs just to pay rent.” Bucky rubs the back of his neck with one hand. His financials are something that always makes him nervous. 

Steve quickly retrieves a napkin and pen from the counter. “Here.” He writes a phone number on the napkin. “This is the manager’s number. Just give him a call. Drop my name if you really want.” Steve finishes writing and slides the napkin toward Bucky.

“What about your phone number.” Bucky’s mouth quirks into a delicious smile around the words. 

Steve returns an equally flirtatious look, scribbles his name and more numbers on the napkin, then slides them to Bucky.

Bucky glances at the words before folding the napkin and slipping it into his pants pocket. 

“I’ve got to help Nat clean up before the next rush. See you ‘round?” Steve asks, standing up. 

“Yeah.” Bucky smiles down at the cooling cup of coffee at the table, “see you around.”

Bucky told himself he wouldn't be doing this anymore. The flesh of his back warms the side of his bathtub. Bucky doesn't realize he's worrying his bottom lip with his teeth until he tastes the bitter copper of blood.

He reaches out and lifts the bag from the floor and holds it on the edge of the tub in one hand. He's not supposed to be doing this. He's supposed to be starting over, he's supposed to be saving money so he can afford this damn apartment. Bucky pushes his guilt aside as he tilts the bag over the bath water and the blue bath bomb fizzes and releases color into the tub. 

Eight dollars spent on a bath and totally worth it.

Bucky lowers himself into the bath, submerging his chest and neck. The glitter from the bath bomb clings to the soft brown hair on his chest and lower belly. He closes his eyes. Immediately he pictures Steve. Steve, with his perfect beard and perfect chest and perfect lumberjack smell. Bucky slowly rubs a hand down his own chest and skims his abs. He imagines what Steve's abs must feel like. How his face would look, mouth falling open and eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

Bucky's eyes snap open. He feels no small amount of guilt at realizing how shamelessly thirsty he is for a man he hasn't seen in over 10 years. He pulls his hand away from where it's landed on his hipbone. Bucky shakes his head, as if to push thoughts of Steve out forcefully. He takes a few seconds to collect himself before starting his Jackie Wilson Pandora station, and settling into his bath, bound and determined not to do anything pervy while he's in there.

He winds up thinking of Steve, of course. He wonders how much he's changed. _Did he go to college? How's Sarah? She was always the sweetest._ Bucky can't deny that he wants into Steve's pants, but he concludes that he'll try to be Steve's friend. If, at any point, they become something different that just friends, well, Bucky wouldn't be complaining. A friend here is what he needs right now though. Bucky enjoys the rest of his bath. _I think I like it here,_ he thinks about his new home.

* * *

The next day Bucky calls the manager, who is some guy named Nick Fury. Fury, who sounds more like he should be in a big-budget action movie than running a quaint cafe, sends Bucky an email application. Bucky emails Fury a couple times, gets an interview and a few days later is employed. Here he is, in his own apartment in the greatest city in the world and with a job that pays money. It seems like Bucky's life here is clicking into place.

On his first day, Bucky starts at noon; the manager wants to make sure Bucky gets the swing of things before handling a morning rush. To Bucky's relief, Fury tells Steve to train him. Steve and Bucky tie on their black aprons and get to work. Steve shows Bucky how they grind coffee, how to tamp grounds, and why you should always serve espresso super-fresh. There's so much lingo that Bucky wonders if he shouldn't be taking notes and studying later.

Bucky is impressed at how good of a teacher Steve is though. He is patient, working slowly and making sure Bucky can see what he's doing. Every time Steve completes a task or explains something he blushes that full body blush and asks Bucky if it made sense or if he needs to show him again.

Finally the time comes for Bucky to make a shot, a simple plain ol' shot of espresso, by himself. Steve stands just behind him. When Bucky doesn't twist the portafilter on tight enough, Steve reaches around and tightens it. Bucky tries to ignore how warm Steve's arm is as it barely brushes Bucky's. He tries and he fails.

The first shot comes out decent. Bucky feels like he's probably overestimating his skills when he takes a sip. When Steve tries it, however, he gives Bucky that warm smile and tells him it's great. The compliment soothes Bucky's ego.

A few hours later and Bucky is an 'expert' (according to Steve) at shots and double shots. He needs to practice frothing milk, and he's freakishly quick on the register. Coincidentally, he'll be on register for his first few shifts while he practices making the drinks.

Bucky works the register. Steve is making the drinks. They quickly fall into a comfortable rhythm. It's slow enough in the afternoon that Bucky can shout the orders to Steve over the sound of the espresso machine and bean grinder. Hours pass like minutes and the shift is over.

"Sundays are the only days we don't have dinner. Usually Sam is in here to make soups and sandwiches and such." Steve explains when Bucky asks why the afternoon was so tame. That also explains the small kitchen space that extends past the counter. The kitchen is a little secluded room, walls hiding it from customers.

After the pair clean up, Steve locks up behind them as they stand on the street. The setting sun has illuminated everything in a soft, warm glow, and the summer heat of day is fading into an evening chill. Steve offers to walk Bucky the couple blocks home, which Bucky accepts. They walk in comfortable silence.

"This one's mine." Bucky tells Steve as they approach his building.

"Oh." Steve looks almost disappointed. "So, um, can I get your phone number? Y'know in case you have questions at work and I'm not around or something." Steve starts rubbing his hand on the back of his neck as he asks.

Bucky smiles and hands Steve his phone. After the quick exchange of numbers they part with warm, tired smiles and a friendly 'goodnight'.

Bucky throws his phone and keys onto the table inside the door. He walks across the apartment and flops down on his small sofa. He smells like coffee and sweat. After awhile, he decides to eat his leftover Chinese takeout. After heating the noodles in the microwave, he finds himself on the fire escape or no real reason. Bucky sits there, eating, watching the buzz of the city a couple stories beneath him. The chilly evening is a reminder of the autumn weather on its way. People beneath laugh, hold hands, and talk as they walk down the street. Each living their own little story.

Bucky sits on the fire escape for an hour. Finally, he comes back in to shower and get ready for bed. Just as he's sliding into bed, he gets a text from Steve, _See you bright and early tomorrow :)_. He smiles and replies, _Can't wait_. 

Bucky's alarm on his phone goes off the next morning, and he's pretty sure it's the most evil noise on the planet. The sun is just rising, sending a soft light into the apartment. Bucky gets dressed, skipping out on shaving. It's probably safest considering how tired he is. Jeans, t-shirt, shoes and some hair styling later, and he's out the door to work.

"Good morning!" Steve shouts at Bucky with a smile. Steve is already inside, setting up the cafe for the day. 

Bucky gathers all his energy to reply with an only slightly-grumbly "Good morning."

"Cream or sugar?" Steve is holding a drink. It takes Bucky a few moments to realize the drink is for him, and Steve wants to know if he wants cream or sugar. This could be a long shift.

Neither. I'll take it black." Bucky walks behind the counter to take the warm cup from Steve's hands. He immediately takes a huge gulp. It's a standard black coffee, a little strong. It's surprisingly smooth and delicious. Bucky's life of Folgers is shocked at how good this cup of coffee is. He makes a mental note to ask Steve how he makes it.

As Bucky wakes up, he notices the glass cases are filled with muffins and the menu board has an entire section for breakfast sandwiches. He also notices, feeling guilty at how unobservant he is, a man in the kitchen, dipping strawberries into chocolate. The man is about Bucky's height, dark skinned, and smiling far too brightly for anybody at 6AM.

The man looks up, "Hey Steve I- Who the hell are you?" He asks Bucky, as if Bucky were some random person who walked in off the street and stood behind the counter.

"I'm Bucky." he manages. It comes out more rude than he had anticipated, and he's immediately kicking himself. "I just started here yesterday."

"I'm Sam: chef extraordinaire." He smiles again and steps behind the counter to join Steve and Bucky.

"You're dipping strawberries." Bucky is once again shocked at how stupid he sounds. There's no charm in the usually charming Bucky Barnes early in the morning.

Sam raises his eyebrows at that, smile never fading. "Everyone's a critic." With that, he steps back into the kitchen.

Bucky stands in front of the register, wishing that he could metabolize coffee faster. Steve holds a shot of espresso in front of Bucky. "You get used to the early mornings," he offers with a sympathetic smile.

The next hours fly by. A line of customers keeps the men busy. Bucky quickly wakes up as waves of people come into the shop. He's amazed how efficient him and Steve are.

The rush ends, leaving the three men alone in the shop. Sam refills the cases before cleaning up the kitchen and clocking out. Steve and Bucky restock everything, empty the till, and clean up.

Midmorning is downright boring compared to their earlier rush. While Bucky waits around for somebody to come in, Steve makes experimental drinks, asking Bucky to taste each one.

"I like this pumpkin spice better than the first one." Bucky answers, the buzz of caffeine starting to make him jittery and over-happy.

Steve smiles, taking the cup from Bucky's hand and trying it himself, "I agree. The first one had too much spice in it." Steve has a little dollop of foam on his upper lip. Bucky notices it, unconsciously licking his own lip, wondering if God is actually testing him.

Steve licks the foam off his lip, a quick flash of pink tongue, and continues, "People will be ordering these by the dozens." He raises the experimental pumpkin spice.

"Yeah," Bucky says, distracted.

A few more slow hours pass before Sam and a girl named Natasha clock in. Bucky and Steve clock out and remove their aprons in the back room.

"So, um, see you tomorrow?" Steve asks.

"Bright and early." Bucky replies before leaving, walking home alone.

* * *

Bucky does find himself getting better at running the register. He practices making the drinks with Steve sometimes, but he can't help but notice that he is never as good as Steve. Steve has this way of making everything the best coffee Bucky has ever had.

The way that Sam keeps using Bucky as a taste-testing guinea pig for sweets, Bucky thinks he'll be super chubby by Christmas. He can't help but notice that his clothes do fit him a bit better since he's started working at the coffee shop.

* * *

Bucky and Steve take their break in the coffeeshop. Steve makes them both mochas and they sit in comfortable silence at one of the plain tables. 

Billie Holiday sings about reluctant lovers over the shop's sound system. It's a quiet afternoon. Bucky and Steve are alone at the tables.

Bucky doesn't realize how badly he's spaced out until Steve is clearing his throat. Bucky snaps back to the present and looks to Steve. "Can I draw you?" Steve asks.

The thudding of Bucky's heart reaches maximum volume. He gulps before asking Steve, "What do you want me to do?"

Steve's kind smile calms Bucky's pulse. "Just look out the window like you were just then. Steve pulls out a sketchbook as Bucky turns back to the window.

At first the scratching pencil over Steve's sketchbook is a grounding sound that keeps Bucky in the moment. As minutes pass, the music and the silence of the shop take over and Bucky is daydreaming again. He imagines Steve's apartment full of sketchbooks. Steve was always drawing constantly when they were kids. Bucky loved looking over his work. From little cartoons to the realistic depictions of scenes of Brooklyn, Steve could capture things in graphite with unique, practiced style. The images always conveyed such emotion while capturing simple scenes.

After some time, Steve pokes Bucky and holds the sketch out to his friend. Bucky grabs the soft leather book and examines the drawing. Bucky can't help but wonder if this is how Steve sees him. Bucky looks handsome and soft in the drawing. The subtle shading captures how the light from the window falls across Bucky's face. A little swirl of steam rises from the graphite mug on the drawn table. Bucky's mouth drops open in awe as he studies the drawing.

Steve's blush is fiercely pink when Bucky looks back up to the artist. "It's great!" Bucky makes sure to compliment Steve. Steve replies with a quiet "Thank you."

Reluctantly, Bucky hands the sketchbook back to Steve. 

* * *

Bucky and Steve have started walking home together. Sometimes Bucky walks Steve home before returning to his place. Sometimes Steve drops Bucky off before finishing his walk alone. They alternate.

Summer is giving away to autumn. The trees that line the street are turning orange, brown, and red. Steve breaks out water colors during his breaks sometimes to capture the colors of the season.

Bucky has started to wear scarves on these walks. Steve has a collection of exceptionally soft sweaters for fall. The blond has also grown out his beard slightly, which only adds to the exceptional softness of his appearance. Bucky tries not to imagine how perfect it would be to cuddle with Steve, to hold Steve's warm hand against the cold or share body heat under warm bedsheets.

"Remember that time you spent fifty dollars trying to win a stuffed bear?" Steve asks Bucky. They do this a lot, share decade old memories on their walks.

"That was the day we had to ride home in a freezer truck." Bucky replies, giggling now.

"We spent our bus fare on hot dogs." Steve continues with a broad smile.

They walk slower as they approach Bucky's building. Steve stops in front of the door, facing Bucky. This is always the worst part of Bucky's day.

Bucky catches himself looking at Steve's lips. They're red and slightly chapped from the cold. Bucky thinks they look utterly kissable. Steve flicks his tongue out to lick his lips. The flash of pink makes Bucky's skin heat and heart race behind his ribs.

"I better get home..." Steve says. His voice is low.

Bucky feels a sudden, flirtatious surge of courage, "You don't have to. You can come inside, if you want."

Steve chuckles quietly. His eyes are focused into Bucky's and he steps forward, closing the gap between them. Steve is a human furnace, warming the air in front of Bucky, making Bucky's skin tingle.

Bucky thinks Steve is going to kiss him. The space between them is minimal and Steve's eyes are lidded and sleepy. Just as Bucky leans in the few millimeters to prompt a kiss, Steve steps back. It's cold where his heat had been a few seconds before.

"I better get going." Steve says, sliding the hand off of Bucky's wrist. Bucky hadn't even realized Steve's hand had settled around his own wrist.

Steve walks away into the evening, towards his own apartment. Bucky kicks himself, figuratively.

* * *

The next morning is as beautiful as the previous evening; orange and red leaves fall, silently, softly, outside.

Bucky gets to work a few minutes late. He doesn't have time to appreciate the beauty of autumn as he jogs to the door of the coffeeshop. He lets himself in and is mildly mortified that Steve is already there. He wasn't looking forward to embarrassing himself in front of Steve after the previous evening.

Bucky is tired and grouchy. He'd thought about the near-kiss all night, wondering if Steve didn't feel the same way. It hurt Bucky's chest to simply consider that maybe his feelings toward Steve were unrequited, or even totally unwanted. What if he just had bad breath? What if Steve wasn't into dudes? What if Steve totally hated his stupid guts and never wanted to be near him again?

Bucky looks like hell. His usually carefully styled hair is a mess, his under-eye circles are a deep purple, and he's wearing dirty jeans an a wrinkled t-shirt. Bucky looks and feels like a dumpster.

As Bucky steps around the corner, Steve wishes Bucky a 'good morning' and hands him a coffee. The normalcy of everything catches Bucky off-guard.

Bucky is too tired to have inhibitions right now. "What was that last night?" He blurts out. Steve's eyes widen at the question. Bucky sets the coffee on the counter and continues, "'Cause, like, I've wanted to kiss you since we were twelve and last night I thought we were really really close, and you leaned in then left me out in the cold. What the hell?" Bucky is embarrassed at how much he's rambling and how loud his voice is right now. He's frustrated and tired.

Steve opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before finally finding something to say, "I'm sorry. I thought, maybe, since you hadn't said or done anything in the months since we've met, that you didn't feel the same. Apparently I was wrong," Steve looks down, embarrassed and blushing.

If Bucky could literally kick himself, he would.

"You're a perfect soft human and I want so badly to kiss you and probably let you fuck me into the mattress." Bucky is once again shocked at his complete lack of smooth. He'll blame the sleep-deprivation.

Steve chuckles and looks up into Bucky's eyes. Bucky steps forward, closing the burning space between them.

Steve's hand is on his own, gripping his wrist gently. Steve is always so warm, so soft. Bucky steps forward, closing the space between them. He slides both hands to gently cup Steve's face, the tips of his thumbs stroking across Steve's cheekbones once. Bucky closes his eyes and gently presses a kiss onto Steve's lips. Steve's lips are soft. He smells like musky woodsy soap and coffee. Bucky pulls back and licks his lip as if to catch the lingering hint of Steve that might lie there. He looks into Steve's deep blue eyes. Both men smile then, release a similar, airy giggle.

Just as Bilile Holiday's voice tell's them she's 'been waiting such a long long time', Steve dips down slightly for another kiss. The taller man gently licks across Bucky's lip. Bucky opens his mouth, hot and wet, and let's Steve in. As the kiss deepens, Steve slides his hands around Bucky's back to flatten and press into the muscles there. Both men are pulling each other close, as if something were trying to pull them apart. They're swaying slightly now, back and forth gently, barely noticeable as they kiss. Steve's tongue explores the velvet heat of Bucky's mouth. Both men have coffee breath. Neither man cares.

After a few minutes, not nearly long enough, the two men separate. They each breathe heavy and hot, staying close to each other, sharing each other's heat and air. Bucky slides a hand down to Steve's chest, relishing the firm muscles that push against Steve's shirt.

Both men notice somebody at the door and turn their head to look. Sam is standing outside the glass door, smiling at the pair. He shoots them a quick thumbs up before gesturing for somebody to come unlock the door. Despite their embarrassment, both men separate. Steve retrieves the keys to let Sam in.

"You are both idiots." Sam jokes, "More importantly, will I be invited to the wedding?"

Both men blush, embarrassed, and try to get on with their day as normally as possible.

Steve goes into Bucky's apartment that evening.

Steve and Bucky talk for hours before Bucky starts kissing soft, closed mouthed kisses down Steve's neck. Steve throws his head back, mouth open and eyes squeezes shut in pleasure. Bucky places a hand on Steve's chest and strokes a nipple through Steve's shirt, which makes him buck and moan.

Bucky is giggling about Steve's reaction when Steve flips them over on Bucky's sofa, so he's looking down at Bucky's shocked, grey eyes

Steve's mouth is on Bucky's, open and too hot and not enough. Steve flattens his hands against Bucky's stomach under Bucky's shirt and runs his hands up Bucky's tummy. Bucky and Steve separate so Bucky can lean up to throw off his shirt before laying back down under Steve.

Steve immediately drops his mouth to one of Bucky's nipples and playfully licks the hardening nub. Bucky shouts a curse, his hands flying to the back of Steve's hair to hold him in place. His hips thrust involuntarily against Steve. Steve laughs, hot and wet against Bucky's chest before going to the other nipple. He flicks his tongue teasingly. Bucky is squirming and moaning now.

"Are you trying not to nut?" Steve asks with a giggle.

"Shut up." Bucky manages. That just makes Steve laugh before he continues, kissing a train down Bucky's chest. He kisses down Bucky's tummy and towards his jeans, which Bucky is taking off before Steve can even ask.

* * *

Bucky wakes up in a cold bed. The bed where Steve had been sleeping is still messy and dipped from his body.

Bucky panics temporarily before he remembers it's their day off. He also remembers last night with no small amount of affection and pride. Steve had gone to work on Bucky, sucking his cock for the few minutes that Bucky lasted. Bucky had returned the favor. Much to his own amusement, Steve had come three times last night, shaking and moaning Bucky's name through each of his orgasms. Bucky can suck cock, and he's going to brag about it.

Jazz music is floating from Bucky's kitchen. Steve is standing over Bucky's counter, cooking. Both men are just in boxers and whatever t-shirts they could find in the bedroom. Bucky's shirt is too tight but looks great on Steve.

"Good morning," Steve wishes Bucky and holds out a mug of black coffee. Bucky holds the mug out of his way so he can give Steve a quick kiss.

Steve continues to work, whisking pancakes batter with a level of focus that implies he's not very practiced at doing so. Bucky watches as Steve makes them both breakfast: homemade pancakes and bacon.

Although it's obvious Steve doesn't cook often, which Bucky teases him for, neither can imagine a more perfect morning.

* * *

Sam is invited to the wedding. In fact, he's best man.

They'd rented a huge brick building. Bucky thought it kind of silly at first, renting a brick building in a neighborhood full of brick buildings. Once he saw the magnificent room with the aisle down the middle and rows of decorated seats, he thought this was the perfect idea.

They'd decided to get matching suits, neither the tuxedo type. Sam had to help Bucky get ready, since he's not great at ties and Steve insisted on not seeing him before the wedding. Bucky has a tight ball of nerves in his gut, that floating elation in his chest, and a ball of emotion in his throat. Sam is sure to tease him whenever he starts tearing up.

It's a nondenominational ceremony with a few slight nods towards the Rogers' family Catholicism. They didn't invite a ton of people. Bucky's sister and mother are there, as are Steve's aunt. Their friends from the neighborhood are there as well.

They'd decided to walk up the aisle together. When Steve sees Bucky for the first time, out of sight of their guests, he smiles not unlike that first time they had seen each other in years. Bucky smiles back. Both men swallow down their rising waves of emotion before holding each other's hands, and walking up the aisle.

Brooklyn has been good to Bucky. He'd kissed a charming barista, become obsessed with old blues music, and figured out a hundred ways to make Steve Rogers blush here.

Bucky had fallen in love in Brooklyn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> As always, unbeta'd. 
> 
>  The title is for the song Black Coffee by Ella Fitzgerald.  
> The theme of the song has little to do with the content/tone of the fic, but it's a good song. 
> 
> [I made a playlist to go with this as well.](https://open.spotify.com/user/pocketbucky/playlist/5gEox9VX8M76SUGwzfx6Zf)
> 
>  
> 
> I had a great time visiting coffeeshops and watching youtube videos for this fic! I should write coffeeshop aus more often (I think 90% of my fics reference coffeeshops tbh). If things are blatantly wrong, it's because I haven't touched an espresso machine in years and have no clue what I'm doing.


End file.
